


White Rice and Empty Houses

by Ameliorate



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, sorry i'm new here, spoilers through November in-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:46:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameliorate/pseuds/Ameliorate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another empty house. Another night spent alone in the dark.<br/>But it’s not the same anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Rice and Empty Houses

_It’s four in the morning, he shouldn't still be awake. If his parents knew, he would certainly be scolded. Eight-year-olds should be fast asleep at this hour._

_At least, that’s how he’d imagined it would be if they ever caught him._

_The rasp of wood against short treaded carpet, his bedroom door gently pushed in on its hinges. He hears the footsteps, the cautious pause, and he freezes. Eyes tightly shut, covers drawn up over his chin and curled up on his side, he waits. Just like always._

_The kiss pressed to the top of his head and the covers pulled up a little more snugly around him. Another brief pause. He knows it’s his mother; father would have patted his shoulder._

_And then, as if following a scripted sequence, he hears her leave, the door closing with a sharp click no matter how softly it’s shut. The footsteps fading down the hallway. The front door opening, a brief shuffling of what he’s always guessed was their bags and briefcases, and then closing again. Silence._

_It’s like this every time they leave. He never lets them know he’s just pretending to be asleep. They wouldn't come to say goodbye if he was awake, and he can’t stand to watch them walk out that door to the waiting cab. He knows it’s likely to be days or even weeks until they come back again. They’re always gone. A sitter who won’t play with him can’t make up for each and every big, empty house he moves to. They’ll send him postcards and trinkets from places he’ll never see, they’ll call him now and then, but it’s never the same. Never enough._

_He burrows his head under the pillow to block out the quiet._

 

\--------

“Hey, are you listening?”

Souji starts. Chie is leaning across the desk towards him, eyebrows angled slightly and lips curled in a concerned frown. Behind her, Yosuke’s tapping his foot against the floor in perfect tempo with the rain pattering against the classroom window. “The bell rang five minutes ago and you’re still spacing out. Are you sure you’re doing alright?”

“…Sorry. I’m fine.”

Her expression softens and she reaches over to give his wrist a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry about it, ok? I know you’ve probably got a lot on your mind right now, and…” He waits for her to finish, but she’s trailed off; withdrawing her arm and focusing on a particularly interesting point of the desk.

Yosuke pipes up. Souji wonders if he’d been speaking earlier; it isn’t like Yosuke to stay quiet for too long. “Hey, partner, we’re headed to Aiya after this. Rainy day special, after all, right?” He offers a lopsided smile. “You wanna come with?”

Souji shakes his head and pushes back enough to haul himself to his feet. “No, thanks. Maybe some other time.”

Yosuke looks disappointed; Chie is still staring at the desk. “If you’re sure, man. Another time then?”

He tries for a smile of his own, but he knows full well it must look as taut and forced as he feels. “Sure thing. Thanks, guys.”

On the first floor, Yukiko looks up from the notice board on the wall to flash him a tentative smile and a wave. Naoto stands a ways down the hall, watching him carefully without a sound, face blank and drawn, and Souji only remembers he left his umbrella at the house as he steps out into the rain.

 

\--------

_“It’s too soon to visit her. We’ll let you know when she’s strong enough. Until then, just try to take it easy. She’s in safe hands.”_

_He stands in an empty hallway, all stark white walls and sterile air clogging his lungs. The nurse is apologetic, but the small bundle of sheets lying perfectly still in the too-large bed behind her is no more rectifying than her placid tone._

_He came alone today. It would be too much to ask of the team to join him so soon after all that had happened._

_Barely a day since they’d brought her here. And days leading up to that; filing down twisting pathways and tearing through every shadow posed to block their way._

_They had bled, they had fallen, twice they held their breath as Yukiko or Teddie cast Mediarahn and they willed their teammates to get back up. And at the very top, she’d been there. As had the man who first kindled hatred within him._

_The battle itself had nearly been too much. But holding her in his arms, limp and pale and barely breathing, that’s what shattered him. They’d all staggered through the hospital doors late that night, Naoto somehow scraping together a story viable enough to spare them from police questioning while he begged each nurse he met to let him see her, let him know she was ok._

_Another hallway, crammed together in a mass of bowed heads, hunched shoulders and aching bones. Someone’s breath is hitching, and when Kanji slams his fist into the wall and starts yelling, he’s surprised it isn’t at him._

 

\--------

Yosuke shoves his bento across the ledge and pokes at him with the chopsticks. “You seriously didn’t bring anything to eat again? And here I’m so used to mooching off you for anything edible around here,” he grins, and Souji smiles in return.

“Thanks, but I’m fine, really.”

“You sure? I promise the girls had nothing to do with it, just something I picked up at Junes. It looked pretty good.”

“Positive.” He pushes the tray away and leans back, propping himself up against the chain-link fence surrounding the rooftop. “Just not that hungry.”

Yosuke frowns. “Dude, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you seriously don’t look good. Like you haven’t slept in a week, either. You doing alright?” He’s bouncing his knee again, fingers toying with his headphone cord. Never one to sit still, particularly if something’s bothering him.

“I’m fine.”

“You look like a zombie.”

Souji sighs and tilts his head back to gaze out at what precious little of the tree line past the school he can see through the dense layer of fog around them. It still hasn’t lifted; something that twists his stomach into a cold knot.

Yosuke runs a hand through his mess of tawny hair and glances over. “Look, we got her in time, right? We saved her, and everything’s fine. That bastard Namatame’s gonna go in, the cops’ll wring him out and hang him up to dry, and soon as your uncle and Nanako are feeling better, we can all get back to our lives.” He grips Souji’s shoulder and looks him straight in the eye. “You don’t have to beat yourself up over all this, Souji.”

A dead leaf wheels overhead, picked up by a rogue breeze and sent spinning over the roof top, and Souji’s eyes track it until it melds into the fog.

He says nothing. Yosuke goes quiet as well, but never lifts his hand from his shoulder.

 

\--------

_By the time he’s thirteen, he’s grown accustomed to the rhythm of solitude._

_The chalk is dry and smooth in his hand. He scratches his name in neat slanted characters on the board and turns back to another sea of faces he won’t bother to learn. He’ll introduce himself, choose a seat and answer a volley of questions he’s answered time and time again. The mysterious new transfer student, whose parents keep flitting from city to city with each new job._

_By now, he’s learned the price of friendships. It’s easy enough to win people over; he’s always found building bonds to be as natural as breathing. It’s letting go—and he knows he will always have to let go—that he struggles with. And soon, even that will come as second nature to him._

_He returns home after class each day, whatever counts as ‘home’ this time around, and sets his shoes by the door. There’s always a low-sitting table where he’ll do his homework, one constant no matter what house or apartment his parents end up reserving for what precious little time they spend in any one place._

_At least it beats a cramped hotel room._

_There’s a small kitchen, and over the years he’s learned to cook for himself. His skills are rudimentary at best, but he relishes in knowing that he doesn’t have to rely entirely on parents who he hardly even sees._

_It’s a selfish thought._

_But, on the days when his only company is the little box of post cards and letters tucked away inside a drawer; an envelope filled with tickets, goodbye trinkets and photos, both from his parents and the part-time friends he’s accumulated… It’s hard for him to believe that they care enough to stay longer than a night._

 

\--------

“You seem exhausted. Are you well?” Naoto’s thin arms are crossed over her chest as she gazes up at him. It’s a small miracle for anything to slip past the detective, but Souji’s realized he’s caring less and less as to what others may notice about him lately.

“Yeah… Yeah. Just haven’t gotten enough sleep, that’s all.”

Anyone who doesn’t know Naoto well enough might not notice how her eyes narrow slightly or the way her fingers curl a little tighter around her sleeve. “…If you insist.” She turns to leave, but pauses briefly, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “Senpai… You’ve supported us all this time. Please allow us to do the same for you now.”

And with that, she lifts a hand to tilt her cap down and treads off towards the hospital’s main door, Rise and Kanji waiting for her. The former giving him a heartbreakingly worried look from afar and the latter glaring holes into the pavement outside.

Nanako wasn’t awake during their visit tonight, but the nurse tells him her condition is stable. It’s as much as he can ask for at this point, but that makes it no easier for Souji to watch her just lying there in a bed far too big for her, oxygen mask over her face fogging with each breath.

“Hey, partner,” Yosuke’s voice cuts through his thoughts and a hand grips his arm. His smile is small but reassuring and unlike all the others, Yosuke doesn’t radiate an air of guilt or pity when they talk. “Teddie’s already back at my place, so lemme walk you home, alright? Would suck to go around in this fog by yourself.”

_By yourself._

Souji gives a short nod. “That’d be nice, thank you.”

“Hey, since when’re you so formal, dude?” He jostles his shoulder and tries to smile a little wider. A single spark in the dismal atmosphere. “C’mon. It’s gonna get dark soon.”

 

\--------

_Just another empty house. That’s all it is, now._

_There’s no cheerful “Welcome home, Big Bro!” as he slides open the door and trudges in. No uncle tossing him an absent wave as he thumbs through the paper. No smiling little girl with her legs folded up neatly beneath her in front of the TV. Just an abandoned stack of building blocks and a cold, broken kotatsu draped over the table._

_He knows he should eat something; it’s been a series of long nights, with this one tearing him down until he’s nothing but a column of frayed nerves and raw tension. He ends up staring at an open fridge for minutes on end before finally relenting. Closing the refrigerator door and heading for the stairs, he knows there’s nothing for him here tonight. No way could he stomach anything if he tried, and retires to his room._

_Images are still flashing behind his eyes in a still-frame onslaught. Voices, screams, pain-filled yelps, the rush of air around him as he and the team evoke, all of it still clatters around inside his head as he lays curled up on the futon._

_Worst was the frozen look on his friends’ faces as Namatame’s power overtook their own will and turned them against him. That look in their eyes—twisted somewhere between hatred and absolute terror—hurt him far worse than the blows they’d managed to land. Worse still was staring down at her lifeless face, shouting her name in a desperate plea that they hadn’t been too late, that she would still be okay._

_He curls in tighter on himself in the darkness, and hardly registers the warm wetness over his cheeks until his body is wracking with sobs. The second time tonight, he recalls._

_Another empty house. Another night spent alone in the dark._

_But it’s not the same anymore._

 

\--------

He doesn’t notice until the third set of knocks against his door.

Yosuke is standing on his doorstep, bundled tight in his white winter jacket and holding a rice cooker in his hands. There’s a dusting of snow on his shoulders. His grin is lopsided as ever. “Hey, partner. Brought you something!”

He makes him sit at the table while he fumbles around in the kitchen for bowls and chopsticks, and Souji tries not to flinch when he hears a muffled yelp and a crash. Yosuke reappears a moment later, two bowls of plain white rice and chopsticks in tow, and Souji shoots him a look as he sets down the bowls and tucks himself carefully under the kotatsu across the table.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that… Where’d you guys learn to put away dishes, anyways? Not that I do mine, though, y’know--”

“Nanako usually does the dishes. She can’t reach the top shelves and I wasn’t home to help her.”

“…Oh.”

He picks at his rice in silence as Souji just stares blankly down at his, toying idly with the chopsticks. It’s easier now; not glancing about the room or fixating on that spot in front of the TV, or letting his eyes wander to the fridge. He’s already tucked everything quietly away. Nanako’s toys in the living room, her crayon drawings of Daddy and Big Bro filed safely away. Even Dojima’s perpetually half-empty coffee mug; washed and placed out of sight.

It’s an empty house again.

Its several minutes before Yosuke clears his throat and sets the chopsticks down. “Look, I didn’t come here to watch you sulk at a bowl of rice.” Souji doesn’t look at him. “You’ve gotta eat something, man. We’ve all noticed you don’t eat lunch with us anymore and your fridge looks like you haven’t touched it in weeks.”

“That’s why you brought the rice?”

He shrugs a little sheepishly. “Well, originally I thought I’d just swing by Souzai Daigaku and get something for you, but Naoto said if you haven’t been eating right then you probably need something a little easier to stomach—Hey, now, don’t give me that look.”

Souji heaves a dry laugh and Yosuke points the chopsticks at him accusingly. “You should be thanking me, you big jerk. Rise was determined as all hell to make you—“ and here his voice lifts into an astonishingly terrible falsetto in an attempt to mimic the idol’s trilling, “—‘something special to cheer you up’! I’m saving your ass here. Kanji and I barely talked her out of it.”

The brief moment of cheer peters out unceremoniously and Souji says nothing.

Yosuke’s smile drops slowly and he sighs. “Seriously, man… Please just eat it. I know things suck right now but you can’t just call it quits on us.”

Souji remains silent, his eyes flitting to Yosuke’s briefly, and he lets his shoulders sag. He picks up the chopsticks and starts to eat, and Yosuke moves to sit beside him, leaning into his side without a word.

 

\--------

“I wanna show you something,” Souji says, hand already on the railing at the bottom of the stairs.

Yosuke pokes his head out from inside the kitchen, having cleaned up their dishes and packed away the remaining rice (with a semi-threatening note addressed to his best friend that it had better be eaten before he came back which Souji would find later the next day) into the fridge. “Huh? Uh, alright.”

Souji doesn’t wait to make sure he’s following; instead he just slips into his room and makes for the dresser. Third drawer down, wrapped in one of his old dress shirts, he pulls out the tattered box and goes to plop down on the couch. Yosuke enters a moment later and follows suit. “…A box?”

Wordlessly he opens it, rifling through the layers of photos and postcards until his fingers find the envelope. Yosuke’s just staring, one eyebrow quirked.

The envelope is so old and worn that the peg that once kept it closed had long since fallen off; and the lip of the paper had been folded and unfolded so many times that it was starting to tear at the corners. Souji tips the contents out and, in a single deft sweep, spreads the pile of tickets onto the work table before them. Yosuke’s eyes widen and he casts him a sidelong glance.

“Are these all yours…?” He asks. Souji nods. “Holy shit, dude.”

Souji takes a deep breath. “I’ve done a lot of traveling. My parents’ work... meant we’ve had to move around a lot. This is the longest I can remember ever staying in one place,” he murmurs.

Yosuke, for once, has no response. He just starts pawing through the pile, occasionally lifting a ticket, turning it over in his hands, before moving onto the next. Finally he leans back, one leg tapping out an indiscernible beat against the carpet. “So you’ve really been around, then, huh?”

“You could say that.”

He tilts his head back to stare up at the ceiling for a moment. “You wanna know something?”

“What?”

“I’m a transfer kid, too. I was a big city boy, about six months before you got here. My dad got promoted, ended up as the Junes manager up here, and in less than a week I had to pack up everything I owned, leave all the friends I’d had for years, and move out to some old town in the sticks.” He chuckles and makes a vague gesture towards the spread of tickets. “I’ve got nothing on this, though.”

Souji swallows and turns to him. “…Was it hard?”

“What, leaving them?” Yosuke lifts an eyebrow and Souji nods. “Well, yeah. Still miss a lot of ‘em, too.”

“It was… never hard, for me. Leaving the friends I made.” Souji tilts his head towards the box. “I got so used to coming and going with hardly a word, packing everything up and leaving without even saying goodbye sometimes… It got to be so easy.”

Souji rocks forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and Yosuke mimics him, expression blank and eyes trained on his.

“…I’m tired of having to say goodbye. I’m tired of having to move on… I don’t want to do it anymore.” Somewhere along that sentence he realizes he’s clenching his jaw, and notes a hot prickling sensation behind his eyes. “I’m tired of saying goodbye,” he says again, and he dips his head, bangs falling forward to shield his eyes, and Yosuke doesn’t reply.

Instead, he lays his arm over Souji’s back, pulling him closer. The prickling becomes an intense burning and the hitching starts before he can gather himself, and the next thing he’s aware of is turning to bury his face into the crook of Yosuke’s neck. Yosuke shifts around and there are arms wrapping around him, a hand running shaky circles between his shoulder blades, as though uncertain of exactly what to do. “H-hey... Don’t—“

“We got her in time, r-right?” Souji chokes out. Yosuke hesitates for a moment, then dips his head to rest his chin on his leader’s shoulder and squeezes him gently in a hug. “Yeah, we did. She’ll be fine, ok? And she’ll be home soon. Both of ‘em will be.”

Souji nods and they lapse into a silence only broken by muffled sobs. Neither of them are sure how much time passes, only that at some point Souji finally pulls back and runs his sleeve over his eyes. Yosuke fidgets a bit and pushes a hand through his hair.

“…You ok?”

Souji nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” He pauses. “Hey, Yosuke…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you—“ he breaks off in a hiccup and paws at his face again, trying and failing to convince himself that he’s expended to be embarrassed. “Do you wanna stay the night?”

Yosuke’s expression softens from uncertainty to pure understanding, and he claps a hand onto Souji’s shoulder. “Sure thing. My parents can deal with Teddie for one night, y’know?” He breaks into that lopsided grin Souji will never get tired of.

“…Thank you.”

Worn down, raw, exhausted, and his nose is probably still running a little. But none of that matters right now. He smiles, and though it’s still tight at the edges, it’s the first genuine one he’s been capable of in weeks.

Hours later, he’s lying on his side, bundled in the futon’s covers and gazing up at the dim lines of light that manage to seep in through his blinds from the streetlight adjacent to his bedroom. Yosuke’s a dark mound of blankets on his couch, rising and falling gently with his even breathing. He’s got his arm bent underneath his cheek (even though Souji had made sure to unearth a spare pillow for him to use, along with the bedding) and one leg hanging out over the edge of the couch.

Souji sighs and burrows down a little deeper into the blankets, a small smile flitting at the corners of his mouth. Bone-tired, full and warm, he drifts off easily for the first time since before Nanako’s kidnapping.

It’s far easier to sleep knowing he won’t be waking to another empty house.


End file.
